


Midnight Tea Sings

by Squeemish



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: And It Took 3 Months, EDIT I no longer hate it you can read it now, Garak thinks and shit, I Hate This Now, I hope it comes through the nothing happening, It Ain't Even Long, Julian drinks tea, Julio bullies Lizard, Lizard is better for it, M/M, flirty banter, nothing really happens, teacups and time, they're in love though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeemish/pseuds/Squeemish
Summary: Sometime after Julian's past is revealed, he and Garak have a late night tea party. In other words, Garak sits in a squeaky chair and thinks about Julian, while Julian sips on some tea and asks a question or two.





	Midnight Tea Sings

On Deep Space 9, time couldn’t be determined by the conventional way of looking through a window. You’d only witness the endlessness of space, always dark, its blackness gently warded off by the dim glow of both stars and the low lights of Garak’s room. On Deep Space 9, a day was a computer program. Not exactly manufactured, it more or less followed the sun like the planets of the Bajor system, carefully calculated no doubt. And there truly was none; if one were to ask the computer what the time was at this moment, it would tell you 00:24 hours, and you wouldn’t even think to question it. Who’d waste time arguing with a machine?  
   
With a deep sigh, Garak downed the last cold drop of his red leaf tea. He’d run out of arguments against A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s status as a comedy about five minutes ago, and had since altered between idly eyeing his PADD, held in his right hand, or Julian, who was stood by the replicator, waiting for his tea. Tarkalean, one might dare to presume. The sweet scent of the first batch lingered, not in an unpleasant way, and Garak drew it in deep with every inhale. Shouldn’t war change everything? Bend the world and the people in it out of form, twisting and turning, till all that was left were fractions, held together by shared misery.  
   
Garak shifted in his seat, and the leather squaked. He’d never liked that chair. It was too soft and sticky, and the colour… Abysmal. Not something he’d ever admit out loud of course, since the thing was of Cardassian design, and therefore, if someone where to ask him, superior by default.  
   
An identical chair was placed across from his, with a small coffee table between them. Originally there’d only been one armchair in the room, but after a the wire incident, he’d had aquired another for Julian. And anyone else who might visit him, of course.  
   
Gently cradling his fresh cup tea, as if it were a living thing, Julian sank into the chair with a weary sigh of his own. He glanced at Garak over the rim, somewhat cheerful behind the obvious fatigue, more prominent each day. A few days ago Garak had remarked upon Julian’s clear exhaustion, only to receive a dismissive wave of hand, and pointless reassurances of being alright, how there was a lot more work to do, and some sleep deprivation was to be expected. He hadn’t dared to prod more at the time, since Julian had developed a tendency to get a little hostile, if Garak attempted to pry into anything too personal. Funny, considering it never stopped him from doing the same to Garak, whose temper was arguably worse, yet rarely enough to drive the doctor away. Well. Nowadays less rare.  
   
His heart ached sometimes, for the subtle change in Julian’s demeanor. A natural change many would say, Garak himself often had, for the world enjoyed taking it’s toll on the kindest, on people such as Julian. Nothing to be done about it, but to learn and survive to the best of your abilities. Still, every now and then a voice disrupted Garak’s thoughts, a small nagging thing, that laughed at his discomfort. After all, He’d needled Julian for years, scolded him at every opportunity, for his innocence and excessive optimism. Naturally some of the feedback would sink in, enough even to turn one bitter. What did he expect, when the Federation could be sickening in it’s hypocrisy, it ought to be chastised for it, and if one really considered the matter, it was quite clear that Garak’s influence had nothing to do with any of it, at all. His concern was borne out of a mix of infatuation and gratitude, a childish desire to repay the kindness he’d been given in the past. Plain and simple.  
   
Julian rubbed his neck and let out a breath, deep and slow, unaware of Garak’s musings. That or indifferent. The whole evening Julian had been rather reticent, barely interested in listening to Garak talk, let alone actually conversing with him. Understandable, considering everything, but irksome nevertheless. Everyone on the station was affected by the ever growing presence of the Dominion, and Julian was one of the unlucky ones to have experienced their prolonged hospitality. A mark had been made by that month, one that sleep wouldn’t erase. And now, Julian’s long guarded secret was also known to all, to his shame or relief. Likely both.  
   
Having perhaps sensed prying eyes and thoughts, Julian flicked his gaze to Garak’s, took a slow slurp of his tea as he raised a guestioning brow at the offender, who only smiled and fluttered his lashes.  
   
There he was, after all that turmoil, still smiling, still sipping his Tarkalean tea. Not a care in the world. Garak averted his eyes. It was a ridiculous thing, to think he’d have much to offer for comfort when people like Chief O’Brien or Jadzia Dax no doubt were more capable. Cold longing coiled in his stomach, sharp and simmering. Garak was not to be Julian’s confidant, not when there were others he held dearer. Those he trusted.  
   
Tap tap.  
   
Fingernails clicked against ceramic, loud in the otherwise silent room. The clear sound tapped its way through Garak’s solemn mood, tap tap. Two clicks, and a pause. Tap tap.  
   
Tap. Tap.  
   
_Tap tap tap._  
   
“I had a thought earlier,” Julian said and set his mug on the table with a clank, licking his lips. Garak pried his eyes off of that display, and focused back on the padd. Hours of near silence, and now he deigned to speak.  
   
“Oh?”  
   
“Back when we met. Did you really not know?”  
   
“Know what?”  
   
“ _Garak_.”  
   
Garak blinked at the abrasive tone, baffled, and suitably scolded. A sore spot then. Sore enough to make Julian suspicious of Garak’s long lost motives regarding their relationship? They had not been entirely honorable, that much was true, but hardly sinister. Certainly he hadn’t known of the enhancements. If he had, well… Who’s to say.  
   
So, to be honest or to not to be? He gently placed his PADD on the table as he sneaked a look at Julian and took in the severity of his expression, the rigid set of his shoulders, and wondered why it hurt him so to be himself, when that self he had was better than any he’d known on the station, a fact unchanged by the past.  
   
“I didn’t know.“ He admitted, quiet and tentative, all the while searching a sign of reassurance in Julian, who indeed uncoiled ever so slightly. Good. Perhaps he’d dare to poke a little.  
   
“I merely thought you might be useful.” Julian barely held in a snort and slunk back in his chair with thump.  
   
“I knew it!” He muttered, shaking his head “I said so to the captain. And Miles! I don’t think either took me very seriously at the time… So,” Amused and more at ease, Julian leaned in, “What was your plan?”  
   
“My plan, Doctor?”  
   
“Well, you wanted information, of course, but what would you have done with it? Since you were…” Julian made a show of choosing the right word and whispered, wickedly, ”  _unemployed_.”  
   
Garak acknowledged the subtle jab with a tilted nod and a smirk.  
   
“Good information is always valuable, if you know where to shop. It is my opinion however, that one should always seek more knowledge, with or without a specific goal in mind.”  
   
A spark lit up in Julian’s eyes. He scooted closer, precariously close to the edge of his seat.  
   
“Would it have been enough?” He asked, “Would they have let you back to the Obsidian Order, to Cardassia, if whatever you found was good enough?”  
   
No. Any information he offered would’ve been received, unrewarded. He knew that now.  
   
“Perhaps,” He said.  
   
The spark dimmed to a solemn, apologetic expression, followed by a quick tightlipped smile.  
   
“I could’ve been your golden ticket, had you dug deep enough.” The words came out as a murmur, a peculiar private lament, not meant to be heard. Before Garak could begin to answer them, Julian quickly moved on.  
   
“You never really did though. I have no memory of spilling any beans at least. I don’t think your interrogation methods are that subtle, are they?”  
   
Garak gave an effusive hum, tilting his head from side to side, not exactly in agreement. Settled back into his chair, Julian let out a breathy laugh that ended in an indulgent sigh of a parent, humouring an imaginative child.  
   
“Tell me then.”  
   
Three words to dismantle a man. What exactly Julian wanted out of this inquiry, Garak couldn’t yet fathom, but he’d play along.  
   
“The first step in acquiring information, is to understand the person with the information. This allows you to determine what methods will be the most effective.” Garak smiled, “Torture is often a safe bet, most people are afraid of pain, as they should be, and will cooperate very quickly. Sometimes blackmail might work, but that’s never been a favourite of mine. I’ve found, that the most elegant and fruitful way is to establish some--”  
   
“Trust?” Julian widened his eyes in shock, a mockery, and grinned.  
Before him the scene transformed, and Garak saw a face not yet tainted with sorrows of the world, but one of pure curiosity and glee. Around them the replimat spouted out noise; the scrapes of cutlery, chairs wailing when dragged against the metal floor, and voices of others, babbling on and on. The smell of rokassa hung heavy in the air, unmistakable, as the too bright lights stung his eyes. Absently he brushed over his left hand with his thumb, where sharp pinpricks of teeth pulsed with pain. A distant echo of the past.  
   
He let the memory melt away, back to the Julian who was sad and tired, broken in nearly the same way Garak had been, before someone reminded him of kindness. The someone was looking at him, and the fond warmth in his eyes settled like a cloak over Garak’s shoulders, where it quivered and heated the skin around his neck, down to his arms and back, all the way to his fingertips.  
   
“I was going to be friendly.” He said, “Squeeze out something potentially valuable and then exchange it for my return to Cardassia, as you said.”  
   
Neither of them spoke. The walls drew closer in, and the air grew heavy and hot. Garak swallowed as he glanced at his empty mug, balanced on the armrest. Narrowing his eyes at Garak, arms crossed, Julian quirked up an eyebrow and dropped his tone to a low, overly charming drawl.  
  
_“How friendly?”_  
   
A tone short of wink, Garak thought, and managed to maintain a face of innocent ignorance against the bold grin, his nerves soothed by the humour in it. A tremor of excitement ran through him, this. How he had missed this, the ease they used to play this game with.  
   
“As friendly as was necessary.”  
   
Unimpressed, Julian propped his chin upon his palm, brows scrunched in a frown.  
   
“Well why didn’t you?” He asked, bemused, “Not that it would’ve worked, mind you”  
   
The casually confident claim made Garak scoff, for which he received a coy look in turn.  
   
“I came to the conclusion it was not worth the effort.”  
   
“Meaning?”  
   
“That my time was better spent in other pursuits.”  
   
Julian rolled his eyes, huffing, and picked up his tea again. Before the cup reached his lips however, he stilled, mid movement. Garak frowned.  
   
“Doctor?”  
   
No response. His human had completely frozen up, eyes wide and unseeing. Slowly, Julian lowered the cup on the table and turned to look up at Garak.  
   
”You liked me.”  
   
Heat flashed in Garak’s chest. Their mutual affection was hardly a secret, to outsiders or themselves, but never spoken of. The unwritten rule in their little game.  
   
“We’d hardly be spending time together if I didn’t,” Garak pointed out.  
   
“The one thing I know about you with absolute certainty, is that you’d do anything for Cardassia,” Julian said, “I’d go as far as to say that seducing someone would be well within the lines of acceptable for you, if there was even the slightest possibility of gain in it” Julian’s soft smile turned into a chuckle, fond and much too pleased.  
   
“Yet you didn’t. But you kept having weekly lunches with me. Because you actually liked me.”  
   
Positively beaming with his epiphany, if anyone could call it that, Julian tilted his head playfully to the side, and the air around him vibrated with unashamed glee. He’d been so withered lately, his dear doctor, and seeing his joy after such a long time was a delight. This, however, was not entirely comfortable.  
   
“I’m not quite grasping your point, Doctor”  
   
Unvoiced thoughts hummed in the air between them, sad and bright as ever, thoughts that twisted into tight knots inside Garak’s stomach, where they squirmed and giggled, much like the voice he’d come to know. Ignorant of his discomfort, Julian continued, lost in excitement.  
   
“When Odo first told me about the Obsidian order, he made it sound like this undefeatable foe, always lurking in the shadows, waiting and watching your every move. Little did he know--”  
   
Julian stood, and all but glided over to Garak’s chair, each step he took a challenge to Garak’s sound state of mind. Julian stopped behind the chair, and placed his hands on the backrest, not far from Garak’s shoulders. Determined to seem uncaring, Garak kept his eyes straight ahead, careful not to look at Julian, even when he felt his heavy gaze as it slided over him, and heard the soft swish of Julian’s hand brushing over the chair’s leathery surface when he leaned over the backrest.  
   
“You mocked my methods in the spy program,” he purred, “maybe because the same exact thing worked perfectly on you.” Garak didn’t move, barely breathed, when Julian leaned in closer and whispered softly, right by his ear, “I defeated an agent of the Obsidian Order with charm.”  
   
Garak bristled, and whipped his head around to face Julian’s glowering one.  
   
“What a ridiculous claim--” He hissed, heart thumping, but Julian’s amusement remained.  
   
“Oh, don’t worry Garak. I won’t tell anyone,” Julian assured, his tone tinted more with warmth than mockery. A pest, truly. A wonderful pest.  
   
“Thank you, Doctor. How considerate,” His wry reply came out harsher than intended, and for a moment Garak was certain he’d once again crossed the line, but Julian’s smile only grew wider. For a few short seconds, they stayed there frozen, looking at each other, unwilling to be the first to relent. It was Julian who bashfully broke away from the standoff, and dared one last glance from under his lashes.  
   
“Goodnight, Garak.”  
   
Garak bowed his head, and with a final friendly pat on his shoulder, Julian walked out. The door slided shut behind him, and silence reigned once again. Sheepish, Garak cleared his throat and rubbed his left ear, where the skin tingled pleasently, warm and cold at the same time. A shiver ran down his back, as if the whisper that had lingered now wanted to flee, chased away by his own touch.  
   
How fitting.  
   
A smile fought its way to Garak’s face. Hope was a foolish thing, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the flare within him anytime Julian was near. When they were allowed moments like these, when the horror and pain of reality faded away, his company was a solace Garak reveled in, despite knowing better. Julian knew better, too. Always had. But now, it seemed their unspoken pact of inaction had been broken, and not by Garak. The possibility set heavily within him, and his heart jolted, with the horrible ache of promise.  
   
The happy thoughts of love came to a halt when his elbow nearly knocked his cup off the armrest, Garak snatching it to safety only inches before it hit the floor. Alert, his heart rate raised, and the near drop out clutched tight to his chest, Garak concluded it might be too late of an hour for silly old men to daze about, when his eyes happened upon Julian’s cup, forgotten on the table. He rose to his feet, picked the other cup up as well, and returned them both to the replicator, where they disappeared with the familiar susurrus of light and sound.

**Author's Note:**

> Sad tired woohoo for my first ever fanfic, which I now despise, because I'm pretty sure I can't write. I'll probably edit this a lot later, I'm just soooo tireeeed of iiit, I don't wanna think about it anymore, so here it is not quite as perfect as it could be, full of mistakes and shit, but blergh and blärgh. 
> 
> Leave kudos and/or a comment if ya liked the thing (or noticed a shit ton of errors, English isn't my native tongue and grammar is my enemy regardless of language.)
> 
> EDIT: Wow, someone was a grumpy little goblin when posting this. I've revised the thing, and it's a bit better, and I'm even proud of some parts! Hooray! Believe in yourselves kids.
> 
> Also my tumblr, made of Garashir atm: i-am-a-bit-squeemish.tumblr.com


End file.
